Master of Death
Laurel Potter, Master of Death, lay curled up in her bed, as if making herself smaller could protect her from the relentless storm in her mind. The thick duvet was pulled tightly over her head, cocooning her in darkness, a fragile barrier against the world outside. Her knees were drawn to her chest, arms wrapped round them as she squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear into the quiet void.
The faint smell of lavender clung to the fabric, usually a comfort, but tonight did nothing to sooth her. The weight of her title pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating, even after all these years.
The sharp, grating blare of the alarm pierced through the silence, tearing her from the cocoon she had built. It echoed off the walls, bouncing around the room with an intensity that made her head throb. She shifted beneath the duvet, trying to press her hands over her ears, but it was no use. The sound cut through everything, dragging her back to reality whether she wanted it or not. Not matter how tightly she curled, no matter how much she wished to drown it out.
With a frustrated huff, Laurel’s eyes snapped open, glaring into the dark space beneath her covers. The tightness in her chest grew unbearable. She threw the duvet back, the sudden rush of cool air prickling her skin as she sat up, her hair wild and tangled around her face. The dim light filtering through the curtains cast long shadows on the wall and the alarm continued its assault on her senses.
Laurel’s hand shot out toward the clock, fingers twitching as magic flared to life, raw and untamed, fueled by her irritation. The air in the room buzzed, and with an angry flick of her wrist, the alarm was silenced. The room plunged into a thick, oppressive quiet once more, the sudden absence of noise almost jarring in the contrast. Her breathing was still shallow as she slumped back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling.
Her thoughts swirled, a chaotic mix of exhaustion and resentment. Being the Master of Death has its cost, one she hadn’t fully understood when she’d accepted the mantle. Now, she felt every ounce of it, like an anchor dragging her deeper into the abyss.
She ran a hand through her tangled hair, eyes drifting to the clock that now lay silent on her bedside table. The red numbers glowed dimly in the dark.
4:07 a.m.
Another sleepless night.
“Now…What’s causing such a ruckus,” Laurel mused to herself as she reluctantly slid out of bed. She shuffled across the hall and into her office where she had an immeasurable number of monitors. She blearily looked around the room and spotted the single screen that was flashing red.
“What do we have here?” she pondered.
Laurel waved her hand, and the screen flew forward to sit front and center. She sat down in her large fluffy armchair and watched what appeared before her.
A red-skinned man, his face twisted with grim determination, held aloft a glowing blue cube in his trembling hands. It pulsed with an otherworldly light, humming with untapped power, yet it almost appeared as though he couldn’t let it go, as if it had fused with his very being. His fingers gripped it so tightly that the knuckles of his hands were bone-shite beneath the crimson skin. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his gaze remained locked on the cube, even as the edges of reality began to warp.
Above him, the air itself seemed to fracture, a crack forming in the fabric of space. Tendrils of blue energy arced violently from the cube, whipping through the air like lightning. The ground trembled, the atmosphere crackled with raw, unrestrained power. The man screamed, a guttural, agonized sound. Yet still, his hands refused to release the Tesseract, as if something was holding him in place.
The crack in the air widened, spreading like a wound across the heavens, and from within its depths, an intense, blinding light spilled forth. The glow expanded, enveloping everything in its path as it forms the beginnings of a Bifrost.
With a final, violent surge, the cube gave one last pulse of energy. The blue light intensified, searing through the space around the man as a wave of power ripple outward.
His screams reached a fever pitch, his face contorting in agony, his body trembling with the sheer power that coursed through him. His knees buckled, but he remained standing, bound to the cube that had already consumed him.
Then, in an instant, the light exploded outward. A deafening roar filled the air, and the red-skinned man was wrenched form the ground as if he had been torn from reality itself. His screams were cut off, swallowed by the pulsating energy of the cube as he vanished into the furthest reaches of space, leaving only a trail of blue light in his wake.
Laurel sat up in shock. The Space Stone. Her breath left her body and she was still as she continued to watch the events unfold. Her eyes widened as the cube burnt a hole through the hull of the aircraft and plummeted into the ocean.
“Well, that’s not good,” she muttered. Laurel flicked her fingers, and the screen zoomed in to the cube where it slowly sank to the sandy bottom.
With a quick change of clothes Laurel touched her head and a thin bubble appeared over her head. She briefly touched the screen and with a pull in her belly button transported herself through time and space.
Laurel appeared at the bottom of the ocean and looked up to watch the cube slowly descend. Once it had settled into the sand Laurel cautiously approached and crouched down and reached out a hand to touch the glowing blue object. She needed to confirm that this was in fact one of the six infinity stones. If the stones were making their reappearance after millennia, then Laurel would need to be prepared.
As soon as her fingertips touched the corner of the cube blue energy raced up her arm and her eyes began to glow blue. Laurel threw herself backwards and breathed deep. Laurel closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her worst fears had been confirmed.
Laurel sat, cross legged, on the bottom of the ocean and began to weave a complex alarm spell that would alert her should anyone disturb this stone’s burial ground.
There was nothing more she could do. She could not alter the timeline. It was not the right moment for her to interfere in this Universe’s history. She had to wait to the right time, but that didn’t mean she would not begin her preparations.
After an hour, or was it two, Laurel stood up and reluctantly left the cube behind. She returned to her home and collapsed heavily into her chair. The once comfy chair brought her no relief. She sat forward with her elbows resting on her knees and her head in her hands.
She had been under the impression that only the Time Stone inhabited Midgard. The infinity stones were meant to be scattered throughout the world in Universe 42 but now two stones called Midgard their home. She did not want to imagine the chaos that would occur should any more make their way to the planet.
Before Laurel could begin her preparations, she needed to see the other stones, to ensure their safety.
First stop the Reality Stone. Laurel pressed her hand onto the screen and in a flash her view was of Svartalfheim.